FanStory.com - New land, old facesby Rinshikai

The mud is so thick that it tries to pull my boots off. Becka's idea had worked. Our forces replaced all oil lanterns with glowing mushrooms. It's a little colder, but we kept the forges going, thanks to Becka.

After weeks under the threat of attack, the Sentianl of Trajan is a welcome sight. Though scars decorate the massive stone guardian, he remains eternally on guard. His shield is ready to hold the line against whatever the north throws at him.

Nestled in the mountains lays the last stop before we depart for Bloodcrest. Titos, the capital of the northern frontier. From their mines, Imperial steel arms the legions. In a direct fight, there is no question they could hold off a force three times their size. But a fortified location turns into a tomb when the poison spreads.

"That's just wrong." I look at the posts lining the trenches. Only one road can access the city. Two wagons wide, it would limit any force from overwhelming the walls. And the warnings hanging from the posts, their moans and whimpers, are demoralizing. My hand grips my sword, but there's nothing to be done. All I can do is pray their gods will embrace them soon.

Horns sound our arrival, and the city's main gate opens. Refugees open a path for us in the mangled streets. The rag's over their faces hide the blemishes, but the bloodshot eyes say it all. These people are sick. Did they encounter the poison as we did? Or is there something else happening?

"Aunt Iona, do you see it?" I ask.

Iona glances without turning her head, her mask hiding her expression. "Yes, don't say a thing, ok? If they've been exposed and don't know it. Telling them will only cause a panic."

It's painful to admit, but she's right. Our situation is grim enough. I look back to the refugees. We can't take what little hope they have left. And we can't risk losing men with an unknown enemy so close.

On the inner walls, the famed Silver Scales stand. In unison, they bang their spears, signaling to open the gates. Slack chains tighten, and the doors open with a deep moan. A madman rushes through, only for a bolt to pierce his chest. Shriveled hand to his chest, he looks in awe past the gate. Through broken teeth, he smiles before going limp.

Aunt Iona kneels next to him, closing his eyes and offering a prayer. "May you now know peace."

"Iona, Colton. It's been far too long," a familiar voice says. "Welcome to Titos." Heir of the Hadi family and older brother to Melissa. Alexander Habi welcomes us in polished-scale armor. "Please, follow me."

With a quick gesture from Iona, we gather on the other side of the gate. While the bulk of our forces heads to the barracks, Alex asks Iona and me to escort Tatanya to her uncle's home. Not caring that Becka had tagged along.

You could easily compare the districts to paradise and the void by smell alone. Merchants and lords fill the market without a care in the world. They laugh and gossip, safe from the threats outside their city. Our masks earn us a few confused looks, but they help combat the perfume these people bathe in to hide the rot in this city.

"Alex, why are you here?" I ask. "I doubt your family wants to risk losing their heir."

"My father owed Lord Titus a considerable debt. And considering how my brothers shun responsibility every chance they get. The task falls to me."

"How's Melissa?"

"She's fine," I hit a nerve. "But she's not your concern." Those hazel eyes stare me down, warning me to tread carefully. "Now that you're married to such a prize." He eyes Tatanya. "You can keep your urges in check."

Passing through the arch of a fortified estate, the Trajan banners wave proudly in the wind. At the entryway, one of the house slaves greets us. "Greetings, my lords. My master is expecting you. But first," he pinches his nose. "He asks that you all bathe and change for dinner."

Cleaned and dressed, the four of us enter the Trciunium. Without warning, Becka stops dead. Hand over her heart, her breathing grows heavy, and she bares her teeth like a dog. "You..." she mutters under her breath. Finding the target of her ire, I see the man staring at us from the head of the table.

"Well, hello, little fox. I never thought I'd see you again." The man says, draped in the finest silk. The only imperfection is several deep cuts across his cheek, yet he wears them like a badge of honor. "I see even a bath and a change of clothes can't fix your personality."

Becka reaches for the knife on her leg, and it takes careful maneuvering to make it look like I'm just embracing her. She fights against me, but I tighten my grip. "He was there, Colton, he..." she claws into her breast, and things start coming together.

"He was there with Cato?"

She nods, shaking with anger. Mangus hurt her, and possibly lady Runa as well. He's right there, and he knows she's cornered, unable to do a thing without incurring his wrath. Whispering into her ear, "He'll pay Becka, I promise." My words calm her, and those eyes meet mine.

Ruining the moment, Tatanya walks past us and embraces our host. "Uncle Magnus. Must you goad people like that?"

"Forgive me, niece. Bad tidings sour my mood, but I am glad you are safe. How was your journey?"

Tatanya walks back to us, pushing Becka away. "It was dirty and uncivilized," she caresses my cheek. "But it had its moments." She wraps her arm around me and rests her head on my shoulder.

"Then I am grateful." Drawn to my aunt, he eyes her from head to toe. "I must say, Iona, it's nice to see the woman under all that armor. If it weren't for those eyes and scar, I'd mistake you for lady Orianna herself."

In sharp contrast to her armor, the dress shows off her feminine side. White silk hugs her frame while a legions cloak hangs from her shoulders. A thick leather corset protects her torso, and a short sword hangs ready for battle. Delicate leather sandals replace her heavy leather boots with golden jewelry hanging from her neck and arms.

"I'm only wearing this till my clothes are clean, Lord Magnus. And should you be leering? You're married."

"Forgive me, but how many men can say they've seen the great Iron Iona out of her armor." Our host gestures to us to sit. The house slaves fill the table with a lavish feast. "When can we expect the rest of your forces to arrive?"

"This is it," Iona says.

Her words get a small chuckle out of our host, but the reaction becomes grimmer. "I'm sorry, but did you say this is all you could muster?" He pushes himself up, a vein thumping on his temple. "We were expecting no less than a thousand men. And you sit there and tell me this is all you could muster?"

"I was expecting Hunter to have joined us by now," she says, taking a bite of her meal.

"Hunter!" Magnus circles the table, towering over Iona. "You're placing your faith in that poacher? Do you understand the situation we are in, Iona?"

Reaching into her cleavage, she pulls out a vial of the poison. "Do you?"

Taking the vial, he examines it. "I am well aware of these bobbles, Iona. You saw what happens to those foolish enough to bring them into my city. So that begs the question, why do you possess one?"

"We've been finding them in villages from here to the Heartlands," Iona says.

"That's not possible," Alex says. "We have checkpoints across the region, confiscating every vial we find. And I can assure you that we would know if the northerners were smuggling this across The Scar. "

Dumbfounded by Alex's words, I speak up. "Never underestimate people when they are desperate, Alex. You'd be amazed." I remember how people would find ways to smuggle goods around the capital. Distractions and using urchins were common tactics; if that failed, more desperate people were always willing to risk their lives for a better life.

"Colton, this is far more complicated than people smuggling a few stolen goods in the streets," Alex says. "This weapon could change the borders of the world. The Empire and its allies would never allow that to happen."

"Desperation can be exploited, Alex," I counter. "Do you honestly believe people will stay loyal if they feel abandoned or starving?"

Fixated on the vial, Mangus returns to his seat. "I can assure you, boy. They will stay loyal once we have a countermeasure." Handing the poison to one of his guards, "Take that to the alchemist."

"At once, my lord."

Mangus's eyes land on me, and all he does is shake his head in disbelief. "Don't give me that look. To find a cure, you start with the poison."

"But are you taking precautions? All it takes is a candle to ignite," I say.

"Boy! It's being taken care of."

Muffled voices bounce off the walls then the door flies open. Stumbling into the room, an imperial Commander falls on one knee. He's covered in blood and gore, and his missing arm is haphazardly mended with a blood-soaked cloth. "Bloodcreat...is lost."